An Ocean of Flame Above: A 1983 Doomsday Tale
by mdc1957
Summary: Doomsday had shattered the world. Many who survived the atomic fire faced hell on Earth. Yet despite it all, even as the nothingness consumes her, Hungary isn't one to fade quietly into oblivion. But that time may soon be coming...


Author's Notes and Disclaimer:

Here's another fic for the _Hetalia_/_1983: Doomsday_ crossover tales, taking place in a world after a nuclear apocalypse erupted in the 1980s. This would also serve to open up Hungary's arc in the AU. Sadly, you'd also get a rather cruel glimpse of what it looked like just after Doomsday itself, when things were at their most post-apocalyptic...through _her_ eyes. If there are any warnings here, it's would have to be graphic details and character death. You could say that the _whole story_ is a drawn out death scene, so apologies in advance for any Hungary fans out there. Though if there's any consolation, her story _doesn't_ end here.

For pairings, it's very much AustriaxHungary all the way, with mentions of Russia as well as Sopron's possible origins.

As for some reference and translations:

The background events of Hungary's suffering were taken almost entirely from the source articles, in turn based on Cold War-era scenarios on the country's survival, considering how the Soviets had many soldiers and silos in Magyar territory.

Perhaps in matching the decidedly dark tone of the story, there are references to the historic relationship between Austria and Hungary that give a nod to the more hard-line nationalist perspective (the resentment against Austria), while at the same time showing the lighter "romantic" flipside. You could call it a "love-hate" relationship, though it's more on the love bit.

Sopron is the Magyar city and region bordering Austria, which is also affectionately known as _A Leghűségesebb Város_ ("The Most Loyal Town"). Owing to its location at the crossroads of the two countries (it's also known as _Ödenburg_), it is in many ways genuinely Austro-Hungarian, with the area practically half-German and half-Magyar.

_Ó, Istenem_ - "Oh, God..." (Hungarian)  
><em>Nem...<em> - No (Hungarian)  
><em>Szerelem<em>- "Love" (Hungarian)

The title itself was taken from the English-translated lyrics of Hungary's National Anthem, the _Magyar Himnusz_.

This might very well be the first blatantly dark fic I've actually done. That said, I hope you enjoy reading this!

I don't own _Axis Powers Hetalia_ or _1983: Doomsday_. All rights belong to their respective owners.

* * *

><p><strong><em>An Ocean of Flame Above<em>**

**_Or, A 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Dying Nation's Eyes._**

Somewhere near the Sopron Frontier. 1985.

The Nation found it difficult to tell what time of day it was, the dark clouds and smell of decay obscuring anything resembling a natural cycle. All around her was an eerie silence, broken only by dust-laden wind and the increasingly erratic beating of her own heart. There had been a time when she still heard with some frequency the sounds of refugees muddling along towards the same sanctuary she was struggling to reach. Then again, perhaps fallout, starvation or the "Soviets" had already gotten to them months before. And against her mind's protests, she no longer had the power to do anything about it.

_So this is the end of the world, huh?_ Elisaveta sneered bitterly, only to force back a sharp jolt of pain streaming through her skeletal body. All the Magyar had on was a tattered country dress, its once vibrant colors obscured by grime and scorch marks, and a battered rifle with only a few rounds left. Her skin was almost entirely covered with scars and pulsating burns, all of which felt as fresh as on that September day when everything went to hell. If not for the wilting flower still sitting snugly on her brown hair, the apocalypse had left her all but unrecognizable. _I can't stop now…_

As she was forced to gasp for breath, the unmistakable sound of gunshots and vehicles began ringing through the emptiness. With a coughing fit, she frantically limped towards a nearby tenement, collapsing to the ground upon finding a safe enough shelter. It must have been looted months earlier, the Nation noticed wryly, leaving behind nothing more than a rusting pistol and some empty cans. All the while, the noises outside continued unabated, countered only by the screams echoing inside her head. _Just stop this…_

It wasn't enough that the flashes over Budapest and across her land had glassed, melted or simply burned many of her people to death. Or that radiation kept clawing at her very flesh long after the first dark clouds appeared._ Ó, Istenem…it hurts…_ Before the end, her now dead Communist minders were forced to take in a number of Russia's missiles and soldiers. After a suicidal attempt at invading Austria, those who survived devolved into glorified bandits, pillaging and destroying what semblance of order that remained before turning on each other. Even now, the once proud warrior felt as though Ivan was ravaging her with abandon, and with no end in sight. _MAKE IT STOP!_ A part of her just wanted to end it all. There was still a bullet still in the gun's chamber…

With what strength she still had, Hungary grabbed and smashed the weapon through the ground. "_Nem_…" she snapped to no one in particular. "Not like this…IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?"

Suffering another surge of pain, which seemed weaker than usual, she forced herself to calm down and wait out the mounting commotion outside. The Nation may have lost everything, but she was not one to give in that easily. Sopron was too close now. And there was a promise with an old love she intended to keep.

-o-

It no longer mattered to Hungary how long she had forced herself to stay awake. _Not in my sleep…_She found it increasingly difficult to lift herself up from the ground or to even control her own body. At least the pain was subsiding, though that might have been from the indescribable lightness replacing it. "This…isn't good," she stuttered to herself, a bitter smirk on what's left of her face. "I was hoping to last a bit longer…"

The Nation had been born among the fierce horsemen who settled the Plains along the Danube. From St. Stephen to the futile yet defiant stand against Russia, she bore for generations the triumphs, strengths and shortcomings of her people. But she was now on the verge of forgetting all that as she struggled to keep her mind from growing hazy. Her glory days were long gone. What was left of the Magyars had either vanished into the surrounding wastes or huddled in scattered, dwindling communities. Neither the embodiment nor her children deserved any of this. But there was no point denying how pathetic her position was, as much as she refused to fade to oblivion.

_What would you think of me now, Roderich?_ As her staunchest nationalists used to proclaim, there was no shortage of times when she had quarreled with, fought and at points even hated Austria. Yet she still fell for that aristocrat, and she wouldn't miss it for the world. _Even now…_ The days of the old Empire. The many times they made up. Made love. Savored and shared in each other's company. How they sought, despite so many difficulties, to stay together after the Dual Monarchy was dissolved and the Iron Curtain went up. They had vowed to meet each other the night before the end. She knew he wasn't one to break promises. _Neither would I._

As she sat up with strained effort, Hungary turned towards the direction of Sopron. At the very crossroads between her land and Austria's, it made sense that their secret rendezvous was to be around _A Leghűségesebb Város_, as she once fondly called the place. The fact that she still sensed, if very weakly, signs of vitality coming from there was also no coincidence, the Nation convinced herself. There was also something else at work there which only strengthened her resolve. Life had to go on, with or without her. _Could it be that our d-_

Elizaveta's thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she felt a numbness overshadow every part of her body. For a few fleeting seconds, she managed to pick up what seemed to be an aristocratic, yet anguished German and the faintest hint of a piano echoing in the distance before her hearing vanished forever. She had hoped deep down that her old love was alive and well, perhaps watching over their _Ödenburg_ at that very moment. But the last thing she wanted was for them to lose themselves in grief. _All because of me…_

"The world must go on…" the Nation gasped as her voice faded. "I'm sorry, _Szerelem._"

If there were tears flowing, she no longer felt them. She had already made her choice. Through willpower alone, the Nation attempted to stand up and make one last dignified stride out of the shelter, only to collapse to the ground as soon as the Nation's legs buckled. Choking uncontrollably, she kept crawling, every inch taking her ever closer to her destination.

Even as the world around her narrowed.

Even as her sight vanished.

Even as time became meaningless.

_Can't die…can't die…just a little further…too close…_

Then at long last, there was nothing. At that moment, the last vestiges of Hungary vanished from the face of the Earth: another footnote in the global tragedy of Doomsday. From dust she came, so it was said, and to dust she seemed to return.

But not for long.


End file.
